Chapter Seven: Mermaids are Chanting
Christmas came and went. I went to class, I practiced, and I played a few events for cash. It was an especially dreary January, with spiny bare trees fingering the constant gray skies, which spat rain and snow, muddying the ground. I had only lived 18 years but I couldn't remember a more dismal winter.
Aaron had been so busy with Jacob McGammon that our time together was sparse. But I didn't feel much like going out anyway. Then one Saturday afternoon I walked into our dorm room after playing a wedding. As soon as I opened the door, I saw Reagan and Grant sitting on Regan’s bed, facing the door.
"What?" I asked, throwing my coat over my desk chair.
"We would like to speak with you about your social life," Reagan said. Her voice was metered and matter-of-fact.
"Is this another intervention?"
Grant chimed in. "Yes. You, my love, are a bore. A real downer."
"Give me a break. Is this why you guys are sitting here waiting for me? Do you not have lives of your own?"
Reagan mocked hurt. "I have a life. I'm an actress. And a student. And I just got a job at Hot Beans."
Grant turned to her. "The new coffee place? Congratulations!"
“Thanks!”
I flopped down on my bed across from them, pulling my skirt over my knees. "Okay, so what else?"
Reagan turned back to me, forgetting her own glory for a moment. "How is Aaron?"
I squinted. "Aaron is fine. Why?"
"I haven't seen you two together as often, that's all. Is everything okay?"
This was quickly becoming tedious. I stood up again.
"Yes. Everything is fine. He is busy, I am busy. He goes to class, I go to class. He plays gigs, I play gigs. When we're old and gray we can retire together and spend all day lying on a beach somewhere drinking margaritas. But, for now, we have work to do." I pulled off my heels and started toward the bathroom.
"Have you met Jacob McGammon?" Reagan asked.
I stopped, shoes dangling from my hand. "Yes. I have. Why?"
"I didn't know if Aaron had introduced you to him yet. He's attached to the guy's hip every time I see him."
"Yes. We’ve met." My heart started to pound in my throat. "A few weeks ago." Dizzy head. "I ran into him outside of my practice room." Pink boot. "I ... I need to sit down."
Grant jumped up.
"Goodness, Foster," he said, taking my arm. "It seems that the good professor has had an effect on you …"
I pulled away, glaring at him. "He has no effect on me whatsoever! I've only met him once and I thought he was a douchebag. Why don't you both just back the hell out of my business for once?"
I couldn't stay in that room for another minute. I balanced on one foot and began sliding my shoes back on. "You know, I work my ass off and every time I can't live up to your social standards, I get a talking to."
Reagan cautiously lifted herself from the bed. "Foster, we ..."
"No!" My voice was above a normal level now, practically screaming. "Just stop it! I don't want to hear any more of what you have to say about me or Aaron or Dr. Jack-off McGammon!"
I grabbed my coat and flung the door open, getting in one extra "Dammit!" before I slammed it behind me.
____________
For once I didn't feel like going to my practice room. I needed a change of scenery.
With our conversation still running through my head, I drove to the new coffee shop Reagan had mentioned, not wanting to figure out where else to go. Though it was a weekend and most students had gone home, a few heads were visible behind the newly painted glass window displaying a cartoon-like cup of coffee and a half-eaten donut.
As I entered, a bell jingled and the woman behind the counter, between gum smacks, uttered a mechanical "Welcome to Hot Beans, first of its kind 'round here" before going back to her work.
I sat down at the counter. The Grateful Dead played through the speakers. The place wasn't so bad. Cozy. Social. A perfect job environment for Reagan.
"What can I get you?" the gum-smacking woman asked.
"Coffee. And a tuna salad sandwich."
"Pickle on the side?"
"Sure."
From behind me, near the back of the restaurant, I heard a burst of feminine laughter. The gum smacker rolled her eyes.
"They've been cackling like that for an hour now," she said, pouring my coffee in a large white mug. "Cream?"
"Yes, please." I smiled. "Sorority girls?"
"Doesn't look like it. Three girls and two guys. And everything the older guy says is hilarious."
I turned to get a better look. Though a small half-wall and a large plant blocked the table, one of the girls was in my view. I recognized her from Cabaret.
"I think I know one of them." I told the gum smacker. "Theatre student."
"Ah, I see. Yeah, we just hired one of those. A real diva. But cute. And friendly enough."
I grinned into my mug.
The coffee was hot, the tuna salad was sweet and, after about twenty minutes, I was beginning to feel slightly better. The waitress pushed the check over to me and I noticed her name tag.
"I'm going to use the restroom, Rhonda. I'll be right back."
"Sure, honey. It's in the back, past the laughing hyenas."
I spun around on the stool, putting my heels on the floor. My reflection looked back at me from a mirror on the wall.
Damn. I look pretty good today, I thought, turning toward the restroom. My hips swung more under my fitted skirt as I picked up the pace. In that moment, I vowed to dress up more often.
As I ventured toward the back of the cafe, I glanced over at the rambunctious table I had involuntarily listened to for the past twenty minutes. Immediately I made eye contact with Aaron. When he caught sight of me, he quickly stood up, causing his chair to fall back against the wall.
"Foster? What are you doing here?"
I stood, my body profile facing the table. Despite my shock, I still knew how nice I looked and I held my posture confidently. Aaron took notice of my dress and swallowed air.
"I'm drinking coffee," I said. "You?"
"I thought you were playing a wedding today."
"I was. Earlier. But I wanted to ..."
Suddenly I noticed the others at the table and my sentence trailed off.
Flanking either side of Aaron was Stephania, her red lips smiling broadly at me, and Jacob McGammon. His eyes were not on my face. His gaze rested a bit lower. Immediately, I slouched my posture and his eyes crawled up to look me in the eyes. The other two girls at the table giggled.
"Good afternoon, Foster Farraday. Nice to see you again."
I pulled my attention back to Aaron, who stood there looking unnecessarily guilty.
"We were having a meeting … I wanted to grab something to eat …"
"Join us!" Stephania suddenly boomed, standing up. "I hear so much about you!" Her rolling accent was as thick as her brassiere.
I could see how other women would be threatened by her—truthfully, in that moment, I felt like a piece of bark with clothes—but there was something quite lovely about her, so I returned the smile.
"Thank you. But no. I've got some things to do." I nodded politely at her and looked back at Aaron, who remained standing, staring at me. "Aaron, sorry to interrupt your meeting. I'll talk to you later."
Without waiting for an answer, I turned and walked back to the counter, skipping the restroom.
"Aaron, you cad, you're a lucky man," purred McGammon and all the females at the table burst into giggles again.
Rhonda smiled at me when I pulled a five out of my purse and sat it on the counter.
"Worse face-to-face, aren't they?" she asked.
"Much worse." My voice was shaky and I pulled my coat back on. "Thanks, Rhonda. Have a good day."
"Will do." A pause. "Are you okay, hon?"
I nodded and
hurried toward the front door, the bell jingling to announce my departure.
Snowflakes hit my face, but I couldn't tell the difference between them and the tears that had begun to flow. After fumbling for my keys, I slid into my car, feeling like there wasn't enough air for me to breathe. I grabbed the steering wheel and gripped it tight. My hands didn't feel like my own. My arms felt mechanical. As my knuckles turned white, I let out a growl and put my head down.
Minutes passed as my head spun. I didn't look up. I could only focus on my breathing. A small tap at the passenger window broke my trance and I jumped.
Aaron stood outside of my car, snowflakes clinging to his black sweater. He pointed to the passenger seat, asking for permission and, after a moment, I nodded.
When he closed the door he immediately turned to me and grabbed my hands. "Foster. What is going on? Are you mad at me?"
"I'm not mad at you."
"It is Stephania? I know she's a little overbearing but ..."
"No, Aaron. I'm not that shallow. Besides, I'm supposed to be able to trust you," I said, meeting his gaze. My heart ached and in that moment I felt that I needed to spill everything. "I can trust you, can't I?"
"Yes, of course you can."
"Why are all of you here with Dr. McGammon?"
Aaron looked surprised. "Oh. Well, we were discussing the trip to Sweden."
"The trip?" My brows furrowed. "What does that have to do with you and McGammon? You're not in the theatre department."
Aaron's face suddenly lit up and, while it should have made me smile, I felt an imaginary punch to gut.
"They're taking musicians with them. A few horns, a drummer, a fiddle player. Dr. McGammon asked me to go yesterday afternoon."
Punch, swing, punch.
"Because you're his best student?"
"Well, yes," Aaron chuckled. "But also because he's going."
Knockout.
"Dr. McGammon is going on the Sweden trip?"
"Yes."
"With you?"
"Yep."
"And with Reagan."
"Her, too, yes. And Stephania."
I turned and looked over my dashboard. Snow was beginning to pile up on the hood of the car. I pulled my hands back from Aaron and started my engine. The radio came to life and Aaron reached to turn it down.
"Foster?" Aaron asked. "What is wrong with you?"
"I don't like him," I said, eyes still forward. "I don't like him at all."
"Who? McGammon?"
"Yes. Jacob McGammon." Saying his name made me feel like I had just swallowed a bug.
"Why not? You've only just met him. He's a great guy, Foster. I'm learning so much from him."
"He's a predator!" I spat.
"A what? Why would you say that?" He leaned in toward me, voice lowered.
“He just makes me feel icky. That's all."
The moment had passed. There was no way I could tell Aaron anything that I had wanted to. I felt very alone.
"Okay. Well, I mean, he's a good-looking man. I'd do him."
I turned to stare at Aaron and he burst into laughter. I loved that sound. I forced a small smile.
"You're so queer."
"You are." He kissed my forehead. "Want me to go back to campus with you?"
None of the members of his party had emerged from the coffee shop, so I shook my head.
"No. You don't have to do that. Go back to your meeting." Then something struck me. "Hey, why wasn't Reagan invited to this meeting?"
"Oh, she was. So were the others. Including Dr. Jeremy. They just couldn't make it." Aaron winked. "Reagan tries to limit her contact with Stephania."
"That's going to be one long trip to Sweden."
"For real."
After we said our lip-pressing goodbyes, Aaron hopped out of my car and bounced back through the snow and into Hot Beans. I drove back to the dorm in silence, no radio, no tapes. By the time I pulled into a parking space on campus, I knew that it was time to talk to Reagan.
Silent Key Page 8